


True Love and Other Selling Points

by thegraeyone



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wedding Planner, Drinking, Nonbinary Character, Other, Wedding Planning, nonbinary duke devlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegraeyone/pseuds/thegraeyone
Summary: When Duke Devlin was tasked by their boss to pick a wedding planner for the worst event of the season, they'd expected to hire someone and be done with it. Now they're helping Tristan Taylor make last minute changes a week out from the wedding, and Duke has to know the truth: he can't possibly believe in this true love crap, can he?
Relationships: Honda Hiroto | Tristan Taylor/Otogi Ryuuji | Duke Devlin
Kudos: 6





	True Love and Other Selling Points

**Author's Note:**

> Duke Devlin is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns.

“Do you really believe in this true love crap?”

Duke watched Tristan’s shoulders rise as he took in a deep breath. Day 354 of this wedding stuff, and they’d gotten used to his reactions. The warm easiness with which he greeted clients and vendors, the purposeful strut when he was on a roll, and the beleaguered sigh that filled his chest every time they had a conversation. Really,  _ really _ , they should drop it. It didn’t matter that they thought weddings were an overindulgent waste of time, or that true love existed to sell paperback novels to lonely house wives, or that saying words like “I love you” and “I do” didn’t amount to anything if there was no follow through. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that Tristan believed the opposite, that he found the ceremony a beautiful expression of two people’s love, and that he was happy to have any small part in another person’s happiness. What really mattered was that the project was finished on time and under budget, just like any other assignment Pegasus put them on.

And yet, it was an itch they couldn’t stop scratching.

Tristan Taylor had come to Duke by word of mouth. He had a central office, but it was really only for meeting clients. By far not the most expensive person on their list, but every client they’d come into contact with had promised he’d provide the loveliest, happiest, and most cost effective wedding any couple could ask for. Duke had set up the meeting for Pegasus and his beau and considered their job done. But when were things ever that easy?

Getting Maximillion Pegasus and Keith Howard in the same room together was a nightmare. The tastings, the venue shopping, even the guest list had been like pulling teeth from the two of them, and inevitably it was Duke who’d met with Tristan, holding a laundry list of their boss’ demands and trying to piece together the perfect wedding from what they knew about the couple. Tristan had taken it in stride. And with the final date coming closer, and with a last minute changes after another fight from the happy couple, the two were holed up in Duke’s apartment, switching out the gift bags to Pegasus’ specifications. Duke didn’t need the clock to tell them it was nearing three in the morning. Their caffeine ridden body had only a few hours of sleep, and they had the same feeling they did when working on a project up to the deadline, except their fingers hurt a little more from where they knotted the twine. Really, they should’ve gone with the more expensive agency, but Duke wasn’t entirely sure anyone else wouldn’t have walked.

“I mean,” they said, dropping in the expensive Belgian chocolates, “do you really look at my boss and his boyfriend and think they’re getting their happily ever after?”

He snorted, tying a perfect gold ribbon on the gift bag and adding it to the pile. “Honestly, I’m not sure if they’re going to make it to the wedding.”

Duke smiled at that, and they tipped back their glass of champagne. That may be another reason they were bringing up the topic for the hundredth time. Tristan had brought some congratulatory champagne from another event he’d planned, and they were halfway through the bottle at this point. A warmth touched Tristan’s tanned cheeks, one they admired from where they sat across from him on the couch. They unfolded the gold foil from one of the chocolates, and he shouted.

“Those aren’t yours!” he said. “I only have so many of them.”

“I think the guests will survive if they have one less chocolate in their bag.” They smirked at him as they dropped the rest in and moved on. “I mean, you have to see some real disasters of a wedding, right? You’ve never sat down with a couple and thought, wow, they really should not be getting married.”

“That’s what contracts are for,” he said and took the finished bag to tie another ribbon. “And, yeah, there are some people who maybe aren’t made for each other, but they’re few and far between. I don’t get why it bothers you so much.”

“Because,” they said and swallowed down the treat. “Because.” They took a sip of champagne. “Because it’s all so fake. It’s not about love, it’s about showing off. Pegasus’ guest list is made up of industry people and business associates.”

“I don’t think we should use this wedding as litmus test,” Tristan said. He took his own swig directly from the bottle and wiped his mouth when he was finished. They licked their own lips before they caught themself. The champagne might’ve been a mistake.

“But you do believe in it,” they prodded. “Happily ever after. True love.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, entirely too earnest. “What else is there?”

They laughed, and yeah, they were being a little mean. “A 401K, a sweet penthouse with a view, a 1997 Veneto red. I could go on, Taylor. People get so caught up in wanting their one true love, when there’s a whole world out there just for them. If I want something, I’ll get it my damn self, like Beyonce taught me.”

“Marriage isn’t about the stuff you get out of it,” Tristan said.

Duke held up the bag they were working on and dropped in the keepsake pendant. “The registry says otherwise.”

“No, seriously.” He held up his hands, and he really was cute like this, teetering slightly, sloppier than he usually was in appearance. He wore simple clothes beneath a clean blazer, and on days that involved a little more running around was clearly more comfortable in jeans. He often had a flower pinned to his jacket as well, an orange zinnia, and when they asked about it, he’d told them it meant lasting affection. Barf.

“The registry’s actually very sweet,” Tristan continued, “but ignore that for a second. Imagine that you love someone. Imagine that you’re--” He got to his feet, a little wobbly, and he held out his hands. “Imagine that you’re standing in front of all your friends, your family, the people you actually care about. Imagine telling this person that you love them, that you trust them, that you are willing to give yourself to them for the rest of your life, and you’re commemorating this in a ceremony that binds you together. That no matter what comes next, you’re swearing to do this together.”

“Okay,” they said, taking a long sip of their drink. “And in this fantasy, am I in the dress or the tux?”

He huffed out a laugh and flopped next to them on the couch. The weight of him rocked the bags they were working on. Was he a linebacker in a past life? He’d look more at home in a sports bar, but something possessed him to be invested in all of this--this--this crap.

“You really never thought about it before?” he asked, olive eyes staring up at them.

They frowned, looking down at their bag before dropping in the chocolates. “No.”

He paused for a long time, and they could feel his eyes on them, searching for something that wasn’t there. Duke set aside the bag with the others that still needed their ribbons.

“You know,” Tristan said, “I had mine planned a hundred different ways. It’s probably why I got into this business. Every single person I’ve been with, I was absolutely sure was the one, and I had it crafted perfectly in my head how we’d walk down the aisle, and then I’d get dumped, and I’d do it again with someone else. Maybe that’s what you need.”

“To get dumped?” they droned.

“To picture it with someone.” He sat up, taking their hands. Duke almost startled away, but something in his eyes made them pause. “You’ve done a lot of the leg work. We already did the cake tasting together.”

They smiled a little at that. Keith had shown up, eager for free food, but when it was clear Pegasus had better things to do with his time, he bailed as well, leaving Duke and Tristan to decide by themselves what the best options were. It’d been a surprisingly pleasant waste of time. Tristan had liked the light and airy strawberry cake, while Duke had enjoyed the richer chocolates. They decided a classic white cake was probably classiest and easiest for the Pegasus-Howard union. Still, Duke’s mouth occasionally watered at the reminder of the treats.

“Chocolate’s classic,” Tristan said, “so we can go with that. Of course we could have a groom’s cake too, if I really wanted to push for it.”

“Right.” They stared down at his hands. A heat was working its way up their body, radiating out from their fingertips, and they swallowed. “That puts me in the dress then.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he said. “People wear whatever they want on their wedding. It’s their day. I did a goth wedding for someone a while back, and that was a blast. The bride wore a black veil that completely covered her face. And I’ve done lesbian weddings where they’re both in suits. I’ve always been a little jealous that the bride gets to wear a dress. She gets to show up in a full gown while I get a boring tux?”

They snickered, and their fingers squeezed tighter around his. “Would that make you happy, wearing the dress? Then I’d want to be in a suit. A nice one. You can recommend me something from one of those lesbians. Would it be white?”

“I’m a fan of the traditional, obviously. But you wear a lot of red.” He admired them for a moment before adding, “I think green, though. Because of your eyes.”

Duke smiled. “What about the venue? I don’t know if I’d want something big and regal like the Vizcaya. Something a little more understated.”

“A garden, maybe. Outdoor weddings are such a pain, though.”

“A hotel could be nice,” they said, rubbing their thumb against the curve of his hand. “Renting out a block of rooms for everyone, so we could party all night and then crash. It’d be more fun to keep everyone together.”

“See,” Tristan said, and his smile was so genuine, so sweet. “You just had to picture it with the right person.”

They blinked, and then their eyes fluttered closed as their body tilted forward, pressing a kiss against his lips. Neither of them reacted for a heartbeat, their hands still held between them, and Duke pulled away as quickly as they’d gone for it. The act sent a sobering shock through their system, and they quickly pulled their hands away, feeling flustered and drunk all at once. That had to be twelve kinds of inappropriate. And since when did Duke just kiss someone like that? They were acting stupid, just because a boy said some nice things to them. This wedding stuff had them more far gone than they thought. They couldn’t wait for it to be over with.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “That wasn’t--”

Tristan placed both his hands on the side of their face and kissed them again, firmer this time, with far more intent. Duke gasped as they pressed against him, digging their hands into his shirt as though he might pull away, when he was the one holding onto them. Tristan kissed with a fervency that left them lightheaded, and in a few short moves they were now horizontal on the couch, kicking aside the goodie bags to make out. Duke wriggled on top of him as they tried to grasp at anything and everything. His hands traced lines down their shoulders and across their chest before one wove its way around their hair. Duke traced the line of his lips with their tongue and savored the champagne taste. Tristan readily invited them in, making soft sounds as they explored his mouth, hands reaching under his shirt. They felt dizzy, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. His skin was so warm, and his heartbeat pounded in his chest, or maybe that was theirs, they were pressed so close it was hard to tell the difference. His arms embraced them, and their hips rocked against his, and they were about to drag him into the bedroom when their phone lit up, the Imperial March playing at top volume.

Duke jumped up, caught like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar. Tristan gave them a dazed look as they scrambled over flowers and chocolates and little silver hearts and found their phone underneath the wedding binder. Pegasus’ name was emblazoned across their screen. Was he  _ psychic _ ? Did he  _ know _ ?

“This is Duke,” they answered automatically. Even though their boss couldn’t see them, they reached up to fix their hair. Tristan’s handling of it had knocked curls free of their usual ponytail. They nodded along to what Pegasus had to say as they glanced sideways at Tristan. He pulled on his shirt, now loose from where he usually tucked them into his jeans, and surreptitiously adjusted his pants. Their eyes met, and Duke turned away, trying not to smile.

“The wedding’s off,” Pegasus said, and it smacked the smile right off their face.

“Are--are you sure?” Duke asked, standing amid the wreckage of another last minute decision by their boss.

“I’m positive.” There was a snarl to his voice. Fresh from a fight, it seemed. Duke closed their eyes. “Cancel it all. No, not the good china--”

A sound of shattering porcelain was all Duke got before a dial tone. They closed their phone and laid it face down on the coffee table, turning slowly to face Tristan.

“Um,” they said. “He wants to cancel the wedding.”

Tristan laid back on the couch, hand on his face. They were nervous for a moment, until they realized he was laughing. His shoulders shook, and he sat up slowly, wiping away a tear.

“That’s what the contracts are for,” he repeated and kicked a bag out of his way. “This whole thing has been a nightmare anyway. He didn’t say why, did he?”

Duke shook their head. Tristan sighed at that.

“I’ll try to talk to the happy couple tomorrow,” he groaned. “See if we can’t work out or differences.”

“I think it might be okay to let this one die,” Duke said.

He looked at them, hand pressed against his forehead, an exhaustion overtaking his bones. Duke felt self-conscious in a way they normally weren’t.

“I should probably get out of your hair,” he said, and then didn’t move.

Duke sucked in a breath. “You don’t have to. If you didn’t want to.”

They really hoped he didn’t want to. Tristan was studying them again, no, wait, admiring them. There was a gleam in his eyes, a softness to his smile. It was definitely their heart beating faster this time.

“The thing is,” he said, “I don’t really do these one night stand things. I told you, I’m traditional. But it sounds like you’re not into dating.”

“I mean, I--” Their whole face felt hot. How did he do this to them? “I’ve just never had anyone think of me that way. Hookups, yeah, maybe even something casual, but no one’s ever--I’ve never had anyone to picture it with.”

He grinned. “You just needed the right person.”

He reached out and closed his hand around theirs for the second time that night. Duke breathed out.

“What about you?” they asked. “You said you thought every single person you dated was the one. Is that still true?”

“I think it could be,” he said. “And I’m willing to find out.”

They squeezed his hand and smiled. The scary thing was, they were too.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual a joke between me and my best friend spirals out of control. Tristan Taylor loves love. This is only the second time I've used Pegasus/Bandit Keith as a backdrop for a fic idea. I may have to commit.


End file.
